


It's a Small World After All

by carefully_careless



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A Lot of Death, Angst, But we get to him, Bye Glenn, Canon-Typical Violence, Carol is an actual mom, Daryl actually doesn't mind her, Daryl gets freaked out bc she is a lot like Beth, Death, Dog food sandwhiches, Enid is chill, Fluff, Future Character Death, I'm Bad At Tagging, It's The Walking Dead, Kisses and cute stuff, Lena is bad at feelings, Maggie is a great friend, Negan - Freeform, Negan is cocky as always, Nostalgia, Pre-Negan, Protective Carl Grimes, Ron is a jerk, Sad scenes, Sass, Trust Issues, Yum, a lot of what you would expect in the walking dead, but hey, just read it, science words, too soon?, very sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-10-14 14:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10538463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefully_careless/pseuds/carefully_careless
Summary: Lena, a person who has learned that two is a crowd, is found by the Alexandrians, where she learns just how small the world really is.





	1. Chapter 1

Thud. Thud. Thud.  
My slow footsteps on the pavement echo in the silence, occasionally accompanied by a chorus of birdsong or cicadas chirping. I squint up at the sky, letting my eyes adjust to the harsh sunlight. The blue is overwhelming, but gives me a clear idea of the time. 4 in the afternoon.  
  
Thud. Thud. Thud.  
  
Every noise makes my heart nearly leap out of my thinned body. In a world where death decides to come at you in the form of the risen dead, any sound ignored could mean the end of your life. A squirrel leaping from one branch to another is enough to make me gasp, but it's something you just have to go through.  
Thud. Thud. Thud.  
  
I check my ammunition in the bag on my side. 12 bullets left. I don't like to use the gun, the noise attracting more roamers than necessary, so I tend to use the knife my father gave me. The blade isn't that large, but it does the job, so no complaining comes from me. If the time comes for me to use the gun, I'll save the last bullet for me. Hey, I tried, but I refuse to be killed at the hands of one of them.  
  
Thud. Thud. Thud.  
  
I slow, exhaustion kicking in. Where am I going? Wherever I end up. Right now, nothing can stay "home". I just try to stay off of the main roads and avoid cities. If it's this bad in the country, I can't imagine a place that had ten times the population of this endless greenery.  
  
Thud. Thud. Thud.  
  
Raspy growling comes from behind me and I swing around, bringing my blade down into the first roamer, before shoving the body towards the other, forcing it to back up. I then sink the knife deep into the brain, through rotting flesh and fragile bone. 71. 71. 71. The number runs through my head and I slowly fall to my knees beside the corpses, a neutral expression on my features. I absentmindedly run my middle finger over the tally-mark scars on my pointer finger. I lift my blade and add a seventh. It's small, but the cut brings a tear out of my eye.  
  
Thud. Thud. Thud.  
  
I was with a girl sometime after this whole ordeal began. Her name was Ari. She was ruthless, in an odd way, bringing one roamer after the other to the ground. She had no remorse, but she could be very kind. She saw me on the street fighting a group of the things. It was obvious that I wasn't going to be crowned winner if the event went on any further. Ari came in, guns blazing and saved my sorry butt. She was remarkably beautiful, warm brown skin seemingly glowing in the hot sun. Two French braids ran down to her shoulder blades and she had an almost mystical, cold look in her eyes.  
  
_I stare with wide eyes, still trying to process what had happened. My brain ignores the putrid scent burning my nose. The girl stands in front of me with an impatient look on her face. ___  
  
_"Well? Are you coming? Those shots weren't exactly quiet and more are coming from over there." She points a slender finger down the street to a horde coming our way. "Stay and die now, or come and die later." I nod and we begin to sprint in the opposite direction. ___  
  
She was an interesting person. She once killed a man that was trying to take our stuff and didn't look back once. I thought that she was all guts of steel until one day when I saw her cutting her finger. That was when I noticed the tally-marks. Now, I copy the idea, counting roamers that I've killed so I can live with it.  
  
I glance up, shading my eyes and studying the road before me. Nothing but hills. Hills and trees and…A house? I lurch to my feet and nearly trip.  
  
I run. I run with a fire in my mind, my heart pounding with an uncontrollable force. My lungs burn, but it's worth it. The sheer joy of watching the white house get closer and closer is amazing. A snarl comes from my left and I turn, hurling the blade and landing it straight in the forehead of the roamer.  
  
_"I missed. Daddy, when will I ever need this?" Disappointment fills my voice and Daddy presses his hand gently into my shoulder, leaving to retrieve the knife. ___  
  
_"You never know when you might need this. It's good to know. Here, step closer and keep your eye trained on where you want it to land." He pulls my arm up and encourages me to throw. The knife lands with a thud at the edge of the target and my heart lifts with pride. ___  
  
I can still recall the time when I showed my talent to Ari.  
  
_"Where the devil did you learn that?" Ari lifts an eyebrow in surprise. ___  
  
_"I…I used to play darts with my uncle." ___  
  
She never did ask about it, but I knew she wasn't trusting of my story.  
  
Thudthudthudthud  
  
Fast. Faster. I push myself harder until I'm sure any step further will kill me. I slow, my heart racing almost as fast as I was running. My breath comes in and out 90 miles an hour and I begin to cough. Even though my lungs throb, the running came with a reward. The cool, dewy grass touches my shoes and I grin at the large white house in the yard before me. The mailbox besides me reads "Olsen". A family used to live here and I plan on taking it on as my own territory. A flash of guilt races through my mind, but I shake it away. After all, the chances that this family is still living are low.  
  
I glance back to the vast green, scanning for any roamers. I only see one shuffling towards me. It gets nearer and bumps into the white fence right in front of me. I push a stray lock of blonde hair from my eyes and put my full attention on the walker. It's bloody stomach presses against the wood, staining it a dark red. Its deformed fingers reach for me, straining for its next meal on legs.  
  
Sorry, buddy. Not happening.  
  
I sink my knife into the thing's head until a disturbingly satisfying squelch makes the roamer fall. I heave a sigh and look for any more. Upon finding none, I unlatch the lock of the fence and push my weight onto it. It swings open on creaky hinges and I cringe. If the roamers didn't hear me before, they definitely know I'm here now.  
  
One step inside.  
  
Two steps.  
  
I laugh with triumph, slamming the gate shut and running farther onto the property. My faded black Transport bookbag slaps against my back as my feet pound the earth. An inclined hill slows me down and I smile, looking over what appears to be a farm. Despite the overgrown grass and dirty water in the pond, it's shockingly beautiful. To my left, the house sits, an unkempt flower garden growing wild with weeds to its front. It has two massive stories with a front porch adorned in old rocking chairs. To the right of me, a vegetable garden grows.  
  
Grew.  
  
I turn my attention back to the aged house and take a few steps closer. The white paint is peeling and the window pane is thick with dust. I reach for the doorknob and begin to turn it, but then stop myself.  
  
Wait.  
  
I rap my knuckles hard against the door and lean in to listen. 10 seconds later, the sound of growling makes me jumps slightly.  
  
God, let's hope it's only one.  
  
I push against the door and it pushes back, heavy with over a year of no use. When it cracks open, a large hand shoots out and makes a grab for my arm. Its thick fingers dig into my skin and I wince, pulling the door back and stabbing at the arm. I hear a crack and the hand falls to the ground. I push my weight against the door and jump back once it flies open, hitting the wall. The roamer, well fed to say the least, hobbles forward. I dodge its one hand and begin a sort of a dance. "You the only one?" My voice comes out hoarse from my time of silence. I grab its shoulders and push it back. It comes once more. "You do realize that you things killed my only friends in this?" I lean in and finish it off.  
  
_"Come on!" Ari motions for me to follow her. I step out from behind the tree and run alongside her. I pant as we sprint through a clearing in the woods, gaining distance from the horde that was on the road. I glance back and gasp at the dozen roamers closing in on us. ___  
  
_"Ari!"_  
  
_"I know." Her voice is stoic and I gulp, pushing harder. We tear through the grass and stop at a huge fence, too high to climb. Prison border. Ari cusses under her breath and turns around, eyeing our options. One, run until we either die or get rid of the roamers…Or… ___  
  
_"Well, it was nice knowing you, Blondie." She gives me a gentle look and my stomach churns. Oh, no. ___  
  
_"What are you-," ___  
  
_She hands me her pistol and nods. "It's got six bullets. Make 'em count." ___  
  
_"No. No, you can't. Not you too. We can get away!" My voice shakes with fear and the tears begin to burn my eyes. ___  
  
_"Don't worry. I ain't dyin' at the hands o' them." She begins to back up, getting sickeningly close to the roamers. She gives me a goodbye, a single salute, and lifts her knife. ___  
  
_"NO!" ___  
  
_She falls, and I look away as the putrid creatures kneel down to eat her corpse. She wanted me to get away, her being the diversion. ___  
  
_"Sorry," my voice comes out in a low whisper. "Plans have changed." ___  
  
_I lift her gun, my hands shaking and a let out a yell, shooting to take out as many roamers as I can. ___  
  
_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. ___  
  
_I throw the empty gun to the grass and lift my knife, making one fall to the ground. I kick the second in the stomach and it stumbles backwards into another. The two fall and I kill both. 3 more. I grab one by the neck and dig the knife into the skull. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. A hand grabs my shoulder and I elbow the source. The blow is gives me enough time to whirl around and finish it off. One more. The one that got the first bite into Ari. I push it on its back and straddle its stomach, stabbing the head repeatedly. I turn the knife over to his stomach, right where he bit into Ari, and give him the biggest incision of his life…Over and over again. Great surgery, Doc. ___  
  
_I finally gather up the nerves to look at Ari. She lays on her back, eyes wide, frozen in the eternal panic of her last second. I let out a shaky breath and stand on my wobbling legs, walking over to her. Her white sweater is stained a horrible red and I cringe. I can almost hear her voice lecturing me. ___  
  
_"I said make them count. Those didn't count, idiot." ___  
  
_"Yes, they did. Yes, they did." I finally let the tears fall, sobbing mixing with the sound of the cool wind. I cup her face and breathe deeply, before pulling her up by her shoulders into a sitting position leaning against me. I gingerly remove her leather bag off of her and sit it in my lap. I grab her soft blanket from inside and spread it out on top of her, stopping at her chin.. Looking back into her bag, I take out a white slip of paper. She snagged it when we raided a stationary store and claimed that we might need it sometime. ___  
  
_I look around, hoping for a stick or something and am not disappointed when I find one to the left of Ari. I dip the end in the blood of the last roamer and begin to write. ___  
  
_Here lies Ari, the best protector and friend I've had. She was tough and sharpened me, treating me like a person and not some kind of child. I survived because of her. ___  
  
_I look back up and empty the few contents of her bag into my larger one and stand. "Hold up." I lean down and pick up Ari's gun, setting it on her stomach. That gun was her life. Her mother had given it to Ari when she died a year before the fall of humanity. She deserves to rest with it. I sigh and begin looking for wildflowers. After walking for a few minutes, I find a bunch. I smile and gather them, heading back to Ari's body. ___  
  
_"Sorry. You never got a proper funeral. I hope this makes up for it. Thank you." I swallow a sob and begin to sing. Ari had told me her favorite song late one night and I intend to honor her._  
_"Carry on my wayward son, ___  
  
_There'll be peace when you are done." My voice cracks, but I hold back the tears. ___  
  
_"Lay your weary head to rest, ___  
  
_Don't you cry no more." I hold back the next line, thinking that she'll jump right up and slap me for thinking her dead. Nothing. ___  
  
_"Once I rose above the noise and confusion, ___  
  
_Just to get a glimpse behind this illusion." I shudder at the memory of her telling stories of the life she had before this, before Hell decided it was bored down there and wanted more space. Her mother died due to a chronic illness. Nothing to be helped, but treatment was expensive and Ari's father blamed her mother. ___  
  
_"I was soaring ever higher, ___  
  
_But I flew too high." She overshot things. She was skilled, no doubt, but she would always find excuses to cut every limb off of every walker she killed. Today, she went too far. Too far, even for her. ___  
  
_"Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man," 'You don't get it' is what I would tell her every time she criticized me for crying over a death. She never got it. ___  
  
_"Though my mind could think, I still was a mad man,"_ **"Come on, we don't need to. We're ok." She looked at me in defiance and took the roamer's foot clean off. She sticks it in her bag. ******  
  
**"We need it." ******  
  
_"I hear the voices when I'm dreaming," She always talked in her sleep. Whether it was a simple 'no' to a 'stop it', she would have the same terror in her eyes. When she woke, though, she always felt better. I felt guilty. She always got less sleep than me and when I talked to her about it, she would brush it off with a very subtle, "Shut it, Cornwad." ___  
  
_"I can hear them say, ___  
  
_Carry on my wayward son, ___  
  
_There'll be piece when you are done,"_ **"I'm just waiting for death. Then, everything will be better. Whether or not there's this Heaven, it can always be better than this. If I go to Hell…well, I'm already used to it." ******  
  
_I continue the song, numbly ripping a small chain off of her neck and shuffling away. The skies darken, but I ignore it. Now I am on my own, alone in this sucky place called reality. Go me. ___  
I blink, tears begging to fall at the memory. I look back up to the door. It's open and nothing dead seems to be walking out with morbid intent, so that's a plus. I clear my throat and stand, bringing my knife to the ready. Once my slender form reaches the door frame, I examine what looks like a living room. The couches are covered in a thick layer of dust and the wallpaper is fading. Other than that, nothing is too horridly messed up, which is good. I tread lightly on the wood through an opening to another room. A kitchen. I smile weakly and race to a set of cupboards. I say a thousand prayers to whatever's up there to give me some food. Maybe a can of beans or even dog food. Man, Alpo sounds really good right now.  
  
No, I was never crawling on the ground screaming for food. I had enough. Sure, it was heavy, and sometimes I would go to sleep hungry because I'd ration it, but I was never dying.  
  
I rip open one of the cupboards and frown. Nothing but a dead fly. I check another one, smiling gently at the small can of peas. I swipe it from the shelf and try another. "Yes!" I yell at the shelf chock full of various foods. Who cared if they were out of date?  
  
I sit on the floor, ignoring the dirt, and pry open the can of peas. The smell hits my nose and I start shoveling it down my throat with one hand. Oh, God. It's heavenly. I sigh, my hand hitting the bottom of the can. I stand and dust myself off. Time to scope out the rest of the house.  
  
I cover the bottom floor, finding a bathroom and master bedroom. I glance at the stairs. Two at a time, I fly, opening door after door. I run into another bathroom and freeze. A mirror is hanging on the wall. Do I even want to see what I look like? Well, curiosity killed the cat.  
  
I bend down and look, peering into the glass. My stringy blonde hair falls in my face and I frown at the intense grime on my skin. My lips are chapped and blood covers my cheek. Despite this, my eyes hold a light that I'm sure wasn't there before now. I grin, feeling safe for the first time in my life. Perhaps being alone isn't that bad. Nobody to bother you, no extra mouth to feed…yeah. Alone is better.  
  
I sigh, standing and scoping out the other rooms. Other than one surprise roamer, nothing major happens. Oh yeah, I find a bed. A bed! Of course, I slap the sheets until I'm sure that the dust won't suffocate me and lay down, asleep before my head hits the pillow. One thought runs through my head before I'm fully gone.  
  
Major score.


	2. Chapter 2

“Dad! Wait! Can I come?” Carl yells out with his arm resting on the side of the car. Rick rolls down the window and looks uncertain, but Sasha answers the boy herself.  
  
“Sure. Hop in the back.”  
  
Carl smiles brightly and nods his head, throwing open the door and sitting down in the torn leather seat. Up in the front, Rick casts an angry glance at the woman beside him. Sasha shrugs, hiding a smirk. “What? The more, the merrier.” Rick grunts and motions for Eugene to open the gate and the car lurches into motion.  
  
It’s a standard run, nothing too risky, but Rick’s father instincts still wouldn’t let him except that.  
  
Miles of land pass and the sun beats down on the car. Nothing stands out as unusual, nothing that wasn’t there last week. As a three-way turn comes up, Carl leans to the front of the car, peering at the road on the left. “Hey, Dad? What’s down there?” Rick follows his son’s gaze and frowns lightly. Sasha leans forward squinting as she speaks.  
  
“We never went that way. Since the town is the other way, we just relied on it.” She settles back into the seat and raises an eyebrow. “I say we check it out.”  
  
After a moment of inner battle, Rick sighs and turns left, preparing himself for either two things. A horde or miles of nothing.  
  
As the truck travels down the long strip of asphalt, trees zoom by, along with the occasional mile-marker and walker. Carl’s head hangs out the window, his hair blown out of his face by the rushing wind. Sasha busies herself by sharpening her knife and occasionally letting her arm hang out of the window. The sun lights up her eyes and warms her rich brown skin, mixing with the wind and reminding Sasha of summer air in the country.  
  
A half-hour passes with nothing to show but an expanse of green. Rick stops the car, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Sun’s about to go down.” He peers to each side of the Chevy. “Oh, well.” Rick starts the vehicle again and begins a U-turn, when Carl shouts from the back seat.  
  
“Dad! Wait! A house!” Carl point to a farm house sitting up the road, pretty and white in the lazy afternoon sun. Interest peaked, Rick backs up and slowly approaches the house. The lawn is overgrown and place looks untouched, yet Rick feels uneasy. For all he knows, the place could be overrun with walkers on the inside.  
  
The house is a two-story, with a barn behind it. It reminds Rick of the Greene’s house, shockingly so. The group gets out of the car and walks up to a white fence. A walker lays behind it, flesh sliding off its emotionless face. Sasha raises her blade to take it out, but realizes it’s already gone. She looks back up and gives Rick a skeptical look, who returns the expression. Carl sighs and pushes through, unlatching the gate and marching inside.  
  
“Carl!” Rick yells, following his son onto the property. Sasha catches up with the two and takes Rick’s other side, eyes alert. They climb the steps to the porch and find yet another walker, who looks a bit more sloppily killed. Sasha peers into the window and looks back at Rick. The presses one pointer finger to her mouth and the other to the window sill, which has a clear finger line in the heavy dust. Rick furrows his brows and sighs, which is followed by him shoving open the door. The hinges creak and the group freezes, listening intently for any activity. “Okay,” Rick says quietly, “Carl, you check out the bottom floor. Sasha and I will get the top floor.” Carl nods and darts into what looks like a kitchen and Sasha follows Rick up the stairs. As Carl walks into the kitchen, he crinkles his nose at the smell coming from the dead refrigerator against the wall. His hand finds the knob of a set of cabinets and is sorely disappointed when only a blanket of dust is to show. The same goes for a few more, before opening one to an apocalypse jackpot. Canned foods line the shelves, labels faded with age and Carl grins. To his left, completely unnoticed, is a small can of peas hidden behind a bowl of rotten fruit.  
  
Above him, Sasha shakes the knob of a door and pushes inside, coming to a bathroom. Aside from snagging a few small bottles of shampoo, nothing is to show for the room. She works her way down the hall, nerves running wild at the absence of the walkers. There should be at least one here. That only means that more danger is here. A person. The group had never been too fortunate with people. As the last room comes up, Sasha sighs. “Alrighty, then.” The door opens on silent hinges and Sasha’s heart drops. A girl who looks just under adult years lay wrapped in ivory sheets, cheeks sunken in and yellow rings under her closed eyes. Wisps of blonde hair fall onto her forehead and frame her cheeks, with a small number of freckles dusted across her nose. A bruise transitioning from blue to a rich purple sits on her arm and her hand grips a small knife.  
  
After a moment of staring, Sasha finds her voice. “Hey, Rick? You might want to get in here!” Her attention turns back to the girl laying on the bed, sound asleep.  
  
Heavy footsteps approach and Rick’s tall form comes in, weapons drawn to the ready. At the sight of the girl wrapped in old sheets, confusion fills his eyes and then surprise. He brings a shaky hand to his forehead. “Oh, God.” His voice is, for the first time in a long time, weak. He steadies himself and approaches her, reaching for her arm. “Hey. Hey, wake up.” He begins to shake her thin body, making her stir just a bit. Her eyes make slits and then widen. She draws her knife, bringing it up into a threatening position. Rick backs up quickly, dropping his gun. “Whoa! Wait! We aren’t gonna hurt you. We just-,”  
  
The girl pushes herself back, holding her knife out. “I don’t want trouble. There’s food downstairs. Take what you want and leave please.” Her eyes are shut tight and her voice holds fear, her blonde locks covering her cowering face.  
  
“Dad, what’s going on?” Carl runs to the threshold, a puzzled look on his features, which then mimic his father’s previous surprise. At the voice, the girl’s body loses the tension, opening her grey eyes. Her voice, full of emotion, quivers.  
  
“Carl?”  
  
“Lena.” Carl’s eyes are wide and full of tears. He jogs to the bed and wraps his toned arms around her, feeling almost every rib. A small smile plays on Lena’s face, but then falls, replaced with a uniform look. A steady hand pushes the boy away and she raises her chin.  
  
“Like I said. There’s food downstairs. Take what you want and go.” Her voice breaks at the end and she looks away, studying the suddenly interesting picture of birds in flight on the wall. Rick sits on the bed, a caring look on his face. “Lena, we have a place. There’s people. Electricity, food, running water. Protection.” Lena bites her lip, shaking her head.  
  
“That’s what I’m scared of. I’ll lose what I learned out here. I’m not going with you.” Lena’s word hold finality and her body settles back into the fluffy pillows to emphasize, which only angers Carl.  
  
“You’re alone!”  
  
“I know!” Lena snaps at Carl with a voice like acid. Rick shoots his son a warning look before turning back to the girl.  
  
“Please, Lena. You’re safer with us.” Rick reaches out to cup Lena’s check, but she slaps his hand away.  
  
“I’m fine on my own.”  
  
“Are you?” Sasha cuts in, cocking her head. “We aren’t going to make you do anything, but we’re gonna give you some strongly advised help. You won’t lose it. I promise.” Lena studies the woman’s face, the features, her eyes, and looks down.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Rick smirks at the success and claps. “Awesome. You won’t regret it and if you want to leave when you get there, we won’t stop you. Like I said earlier, the sun’s going down. We better head out… Now what was that about the food downstairs Lena?”  
  
…  
  
Rick glances back in the truck, watching his son and Lena. Lena sits next to Carl, asleep. Her quiet breaths are slow and relaxed. Carl has his hand protectively situated on top of the girl’s, similarly asleep. Sasha follows Rick’s train of sight.  
  
“So, who’s the girl?”  
  
Rick clears his throat and turns his head back to the road, eyes fixed on the setting sun before the car. “Lena Grace Doughtry. Her dad worked with me on the police force. If 11-year-olds knew the definition of best friends forever? Carl and Lena were the dictionary example. Sometimes it was scary, how much time they spent together. We always thought they would get tired of each other or get torn apart due to some alien comic stuff, but they never did. Before all this, I pictured them getting married.  
  
“Carl talked about her a lot in the first few months I was with him, but it was almost like he didn’t remember her. Guess not. And would you look at that?” Rick gestures to the two in the backseat. “He’s still the brother. I just- I don’t know. She’s so different.”  
  
“We all are,” Sasha chimes in, staring straight ahead. Rick closes his eyes, trying to picture anything at all, any solid memories from his life, only seeing small fragments of the past. He blinks and turns his eyes back to the sunset, the last light of day giving the sky a mixture of purples, pinks, and golds.  
  
"I know."  
  
....  
  
At the sound of gates opening, Lena stirs from a disturbingly comfortable sleep. The sky around the car is dark, dotted with stars and silence. As the truck comes to a stop at a gate, Lena fixes her eyes on a sign.  
  
"Alexandria. Mercy for the lost, vengeance for the plunderers."  
  
Houses with little lights burning inside line the streets, looking like a place that would have Saturday barbecues and kids riding on bikes if the world didn't go to hell. The neighborhood would be a model suburban welcome. Rick, Carl, and Sasha unbuckle, while Lena sinks back into her seat, fear biting her insides. A small crowd had begun to gather, including an Asian man with his arm around a woman with a child in her arms. Her chocolate brown hair is cut short and her smile is warm. Rick swaggers up to the woman, smiling and playing with the baby in her arms. The child coos, chubby hands grabbing for the man. Sasha begins to walk to a man with bright red hair, who envelopes her in a tight hug. She melts into it, a small smile playing on her face.  
  
Carl turns back to Lena, an eyebrow lifted and a hand outstretched.  
  
"It's alright. We don't bite."  
  
Lena scoffs, ignoring the hand and standing on slightly shaking legs. Everyone surrounding her tenses, some draw weapons. Rick quickly grabs the child and backs up. "It's okay. We know her." At the uneasy looks shot Lena's way, Carl introduces her.  
  
"This is Lena. My best-,"  
  
"Friend," Lena cuts him off coldly. "Old acquaintances, really. Right now, it doesn't matter. I'm Lena and I don't intend on being a threat."  
  
Rick blinks slowly, shocked by Lena's words, but nods slowly.  
  
"Maggie, can you get her a shower? You can meet us for dinner afterward."  
  
Maggie nods curtly. "Yeah." Her accent is heavily southern, reminding Lena of her third grade teacher for some reason. Maggie gesture to follow her and Lena complies, leaving Carl, who is still wounded from Lena's harsh words.  
  
Out of the watchful eyes of the settlement, Lena feels a bit more relaxed. She shoots for conversation, opening her mouth to speak. "So," her voice come out quietly. She clears her throat. "So, do you like it here?" Maggie throws a warm glance at her, before sweeping her eyes over the houses lining the streets.  
  
"I love it here. It's safe, welcoming, and we have food. I have my family."  
  
Lena's jaw drops. "Your family? They're alive?" Apparently, Maggie didn't know how lucky she was.  
  
"No. Not my blood." Maggie turns and gestures to the people walking down the street. "My family. Rick, Carl, Glenn, all of them. We've been through so much, so I guess we have the right to call each other family."  
  
Lena mutters a small, "You're right." Maggie points to a house that holds a green tint, looming over the two. The inside is something from a dream, lamps on, cool air blowing from the vents, and even a record player in the corner. After escorting Lena to the bathroom, Maggie smiles.  
  
"There are some towels in there. When you get done, knock on the door and I'll bring you some clothes." After a small thank you, Lena starts the close the door just as Maggie catches it, popping her head back in. "Left is cold, right is hot."  
  
Laughing, Lena brushes back a strand of hair. "Thank you." Once the door is closed, her attention is turned to a huge mirror and shower, a toilet situated in between. She reaches for the towel on the rack and smalls, squeezing the fuzzy material in her small hands. "Wow," she whispers softly, left in complete awe of having the luxury of a fluffy towel.  
  
Moving to the shower, Lena opens the glass door to reveal tiled walls and a handle. She moves a shaky hand to said handle and turns it sharply to the right, moving it back and forth until the water is the right temperature, which is nothing less than boiling hot. Letting the water flow at full force, Lena closes the door to take her clothes off. In front of the mirror, which is beginning to steam up, Lena can see her grimy, bloody clothes. Her old Pink Floyd shirt that used to be her favorite is worn in odd places and her jeans have turned a shade of brown. Peeling away the layers of clothes, Lena is greeted with her body. The years of rations and days of not eating were showing, with bruises flowering her hips and arms.  
  
There is no question that she stinks and her hair is greasier than a slice of New York pizza. Lena slips into the stream of water, letting out a heavy sigh as the hot water cascades over her. She reaches her hand out, water rushing off of her fingers in thin tendrils. Lena closes her eyes, reveling in the feeling of the water soaking her hair, washing out some of the dried blood. For a few moments, she stands, letting the water engulf her, numbing the memories of walkers biting at her, reaching with their decaying fingers.  
  
Lena grabs the bar of soap and rubs it vigorously on her skin, forming soapy bubbles. The soap washes down the drain, a new shade of light brown. Reaching for the shampoo, Lena reads the label. "Hawaiian Breeze". As she rubs it into her scalp, she smells flowers, the kind that grows for a week in the summer and then dies. Lena thinks she smells a bit of cinnamon in there as well, but isn't entirely sure. It smelled okay, so that was all that mattered.  
  
After using the last of the conditioner, Lena runs the soap over her body one last time before finding a razor.  
  
A solid 5 minutes pass before Lena is sure she is completely finished. Turning the water off, she steps out onto the cold floor and grabs a towel, drying her hair and skin. Hesitantly, she raps her knuckle on the door, folding the towel around her body. Maggie steps right in, a pile of clothes hugged against her chest.  
  
"These should fit. I think you and Enid would be the same size, so I raided her stuff. Anyway, I'll be outside if you need me. Come out when you're done."  
  
Lena digs into the pile, finding jeans that were white-washed at the time of purchase, a black bra, and dark blue sweatshirt with the letters "AHST" stitched onto the front. Mismatched socks and black boots finish it up. The jeans fit a size too big, as did the boots, but Lena made a note not to complain. She puts her damp hair into a pony-tail and opens the door.  
  
Maggie smiles and nods at her. "You look nice."  
  
"Thank you." The two continue to walk out of the house and down the street.  
  
"So," Maggie starts. "You and Carl. What's up with that?"  
  
"Well, we used to be best friends. I changed so much out there, I don't consider myself the same, y'know? I'm sure he changed too. I guess right now, we're just strangers." Maggie nods silently, eyes showing thought.  
  
"Maggie!" The two turn, looking at the Asian man running up to them, out of breath and flushed.  
  
"Glenn? Oh, by the way, this is Glenn, I guess." Maggie puts her hand on Glenn's shoulder, concern on her face.  
  
"Rick said-said he wanted to have d-dinner in the field."  
  
Maggie lifts an eyebrow. "Really?" At the nod that followed, she smiles. "I guess we go the opposite way then." She grabs Glenn's hand, walking ahead. Just behind them, Lena follows, watching the couple with interest. Maggie's hand grips her husband's, tight and loving. The sight makes Lena go rigid, another image coming to mind. A tiny, blue hand shaking as it grips a larger hand, similarly turning blue.  
  
"No," Lena whispers. Her breath speeds up, eyes prickling with tears. "Not now."  
  
"Honey, you alright?" Maggie's sweet-as-honey voice holds concern as she slows and turns back.  
  
Holding back a choking sob, Lena nods. "Yeah. I'm okay."


	3. Chapter 3

Lena doesn’t know what she expected, in all honesty. She surely didn’t picture acres and acres of vast green grass, but definitely not something like this. The “field” is a glorified backyard, to put it lightly.  
  
Lena casts a questioning glance to Glenn, who chuckles at her expression.  
  
“Could have been more specific,” Lena mumbles, crossing her arms. The sweatshirt itches her arms, loose threads bothering her on-edge nerves. Her hair, which had dried some on their walk to the “field”, lets a few strands fall from the up-do and into her eyes.  
  
Glenn and Maggie lead her to a circle of metal chairs surrounding a small fire, minutely growing in size. Rick talks to a man who on pre-apocalypse standards would be nothing special. Most likely redneck trash, if Lena had to guess. Dark hair hangs in his threatening resting-face. To the left of him, Carl stands. The boy doesn’t seem to be bothered by the man’s presence, so perhaps she can trust him.  
  
Lena mentally slaps herself for the thought. _You don’t trust anyone here, you twit. _Deciding not to interrupt their conversation or follow Glenn and Maggie, the only people that she would think of trusting as of right now, she sits in an empty chair near the end. The metal is cold, even against her clothed legs. Her eyes turn to the sky, which looks darker than anything she had seen. The black void above is dotted with what seems like trillions of stars. She tries to remember some constellations that her science classes taught her, but only comes up with the basic ones. _There’s the Little Dipper! Or is that the Big Dipper…. _____  
  
“Hey,” Carl says, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m glad you decided to come.”  
  
Lena stiffens up, eyes turning cold as the boy occupies the previously empty chair beside her. Though she is tempted to look at him, she keeps her eyes on the sky. “Was I provided a choice?” In her peripheral vision, she sees him shrug lightly.  
  
“There’s always a choice.” He seems to be saying this more to himself than to Lena, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Carl quickly clears his throat. “We’re having hot dogs. Tara should be here with them soon.”  
  
Lena nods, her stomach lurching at the thought of food. She risks a glance at Carl, who stares hopefully at her. _Did he ask a question? Crap, he asked a question. _Lena puts on a face smile, nodding a bit. _I really hope it was yes or no. _____  
  
She opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by a shadow in front of her. Her gray eyes are cast upwards to meet those of a grinning boy. He doesn’t look too far from Lena and Carl’s own age. Lena gives the boy a small smile before noticing how Carl practically raised his hackles. Lena drops the smile, looking more confused than annoyed.  
  
“Ignore him,” the boy says, shooting Lena a charming smile, before turning a venomous one to Carl. He stretches out his hand and Lena hesitantly meets it. “I’m Ron.”  
  
Ron. Lena plays the name over in her head a few times, getting the feel of it. “Lena,” she replies, trying to study Ron without looking too obvious. He seems nice, but the way Carl reacted…  
  
“Well, Lena, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
  
Lena mutters out a quick “And you,” hoping that her lack of interest in conversation would give him a clue.  
  
“So where are you from?” Ron cocks his head, inching his way to the chair on Lena’s other side. Oh, no he doesn’t.  
  
“South Georgia.” Her voice becomes more and more snappy. She notices that more people are showing up to the small expanse of grass and a woman with brown hair hands Rick a pack of hotdogs.  
  
“Wow,” Ron says in what sounds like fake awe. “You’ve come a long way.” Lena simply nods, shooting Carl a desperate look. Said boy leans forward.  
  
“I suggest stopping right about now.” His voice is low and terrifying, making Lena glad that she wasn’t the one receiving the tone.  
  
“Aw, that’s cute. You trying to protect her.” Ron mocks Carl before dropping his face.  
  
“Not really. I’m positive that Lena here has more steel in her pinky finger than you have in all of your body. Lay a hand on her and I’m sure she can kill you twice over. Most likely with her own bare hands, so think of this as me helping you.” Lena smiles a bit at the praise but swallows it as Ron ignores the threat.  
  
“Has anyone ever told you that you are absolutely beautiful?”  
  
Ron’s voice had gone from kind to flirty in a nanosecond and Lena’s chest burns with rage. So, he’s one of those guys, is he? In response to the question, Lena presses her lips together, feigning embarrassment, then shock, followed by a purely innocent look. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and smiles.  
  
“Why, no. In the village I lived in, compliments and mirrors were forbidden, lest we fall victim to the monster that is vanity.” She fights not to break out in laughter, but she holds her smile. Ron’s eyes flash with the realization that he flirted with a weirdo and slowly backs away, the weirded-out look staying on his features until he turns and quickly walks back to the chair he was in.  
  
Lena drops her head, laughing lowly. Beside her, Carl smiles proudly, disbelief still lingering in his eyes. He joins in with her, cackling at the way she so gracefully told Ron to suck it.  
  
The two are cut off by Rick clapping, gaining everyone’s attention. His face is illuminated a dim orange color from the flames. Lena finds herself looking for the girl who convinced her to come. Was her name Sasha? Sarah? She finally finds Sasha, who sits next to the red-head and some other Hispanic-looking girl. It is obvious that the two women have intense tension between them, but Lena can only wonder why.  
  
“I want to thank you all for coming tonight.” Rick’s voice draws Lena’s attention back to the man, who proudly holds a pack of hot dogs. Where on Earth did he get those? “I’ll skip formalities.” He gestures to a sitting Lena, who quickly sits bolt upright, straightening at the eyes all landing on her. “This is Lena. You guys don’t have to be nervous or anything. She grew up with Carl.” The tone of voice he uses is basically the equivalent of the shark from Finding Nemo, minus the cool Australian accent.  
  
_“Fish are friends, not food.” ___  
  
Lena sits still for a few moments, eyes dancing from one person to the other, before realizing that they were waiting for her to say something.  
  
“Um, hi. Yeah, I don’t have any bad intentions. Just…don’t wave a limb in front of a shark, eh?” Lena’s voice holds an overflowing amount of awkwardness and she shoots a look to Rick, who smiles and holds the pack of meat higher.  
  
“Let’s eat, then.”  
  
Everyone gets to their feet, flooding to get their food. Lena remains sitting, cracking her knuckles and waiting for the crowd to diminish. Carl was long gone and she could only hope that he would be returning to her. It seems like Rick is the head honcho around here, so Carl would have close friends, right?  
  
Lost in her thoughts, Lena almost doesn’t notice that Carl had returned, holding two wieners. Lena smiles gratefully, taking one from his outstretched hand. Carl nudges her once and holds out a skewer, which she takes with thanks.  
  
The group of people surrounding the fire gets smaller eventually, all satisfied with their cooked hotdogs. Lena timidly stands, feeling the weight of a few watchful eyes follow her to the fire. She impales the meat with her skewer and holds it over the roaring fire. She keeps her eyes on the light, as to not draw any attention to herself by staring at someone. She feels a presence beside her and looks up at a girl with dark hair, the one that gave Rick the hotdogs.  
  
“Hi,” the girl says, smiling at Lena, who nods in return.  
  
“Hey.” Her voice comes out a lot quieter than she means and Lena scolds herself for it. Nonetheless, the girl twirls her skewer, darker meat facing the sky.  
  
“I’m Tara.” The brunette points over to another girl, who had already cooked her hotdog. “That’s my girlfriend, Denise.” Tara reaches out her right hand and meets Lena’s.  
  
“Lena, though I guess you know that already.” Lena chuckles along with Tara, who takes on a more serious look.  
  
“So, are you liking it here?”  
  
“I don’t know yet,” Lena confesses, turning her eyes back to the hotdog, nearly done.  
  
“I respect that,” Tara says jokingly. “Well, Denise is waiting on me.”  
  
“Right,” Lena nods, smiling back at Tara. “It was nice to meet you, Tara.”  
  
Tara shoots her a grin. “You too, Lena. Have a good night.” With this, she nods and turns, walking back to Denise. Noticing that her hot dog seems to be absolutely perfect, Lena smiles to herself, walking back to Carl, who talks to a woman.  
  
It seems that the two are pretty close, and Lena is fine with that. The woman had beautiful black skin, lightened a bit by the fire. She has a bright smile and dreadlocks stretching down her back. Lena takes a deep breath and approaches, sitting back down in the chair.  
  
“Hey Lena,” Carl greets her, gesturing to the woman. “This is Michonne.”  
  
Said woman smiles gently, nodding to Lena, who returns the gesture. Michonne makes some excuse for leaving that Lena can’t really remember and she goes off, presumably with Rick.  
  
Lena presses her lips together, eyes scanning the people. They all were smiling about something, talking amongst themselves and standing in clustered groups by the fire. Lena barely registers the call for seconds, remaining in the chair with her eyes glued on the crackling fire. Carl stays as well, grinning slightly. All at once, Lena recognizes the feeling that seeps into her, an aura radiating from practically everyone. Happiness. Lena tries to dismiss the feeling, reasoning that there could be no happiness in a world where the dead need to be told twice and you can lose everything with one mistake. Even though her past reasoning is what she sticks to, she can feel the honest to God happiness that this group has together.  
  
“I think you’ll like it here,” Carl mutters as he watches Lena tear her eyes away from the burning flame. It was no question that she was staying.  
  
“Yeah. I think so, too.”

_____ _

……..

Lena isn’t normally a heavy sleeper, but with the comfort of the new bed and safety, Lena sleeps until at least 10. As she opens her eyes, she panics, forgetting for a second where she was, before it all comes crashing on her. She smiles lightly, hoisting herself from the bed and padding to the window.  
  
Lena peers outside, studying the few people milling around. She turns away with the faint smile still on her lips as she goes to the clothes that Maggie had put in her room.  
  
She recycles the jeans that she had worn the day before and slips on a dull yellow shirt and the same combat boots before braiding her hair and pulling it over her shoulder. Lena quietly but swiftly moves down the stairs, walking to the kitchen.  
  
Maggie sits at the brown table sipping something from a cup, her eyes studying a book. Lena clears her throat as she leans on the doorframe, making Maggie snap to attention.  
  
“Hi, sorry.”  
  
Maggie jumps up, already moving to the refrigerator. “Morning. I made breakfast if you want some.” In response, Lena grins, her stomach longing for food.  
  
“Yes, of course.” She watches with delight as warm scrambled eggs and a biscuit is put on her plate, taking it with great thanks and sitting down across from where Maggie had been.  
  
Maggie returns to her seat, smiling at Lena. “Did you sleep well?”  
  
“Yeah, actually. Kinda surprised I didn’t wake up earlier.” Lena quickly shuts herself up by shoveling eggs into her mouth, savoring the wonderful taste.  
  
“Honey, you deserve the sleep”  
  
Quickly changing the subject, Lena looks up. “So, what do I do?” This makes Maggie look up with a puzzled expression.  
  
“What do you mean?” She gently sets her cup down, leaning both elbows down on the table. Lena clears her throat, dropping her fork and nervously picking at her nail.  
  
“Well, I just mean this place looks pretty systematic, y’know? Everyone’s got a job, right? What’s mine?” Regretting the question immediately, Lena cringes and turns her attention to the clock on the wall, the small ticking sound fast and overbearing in the silence as Maggie contemplates the question.  
  
“Oh. We were gonna wait a bit longer for you to get adjusted, but I can see if Denise needs help in the infirmary.” She pauses and looks at Lena, who beams at the suggestion. “In the meantime, there’s nothing keeping you inside the house. If you want to, you know, get the lay of the land?”  
  
Lena stands, carrying her already-clear plate to the sink before turning back to the older woman. “I think I will.” She makes a step towards the door, before pausing. “Thank you, Maggie.”  
  
“Of course,” Maggie whispers, her gaze following Lena, seeing something familiar in her.  
  
…..  
  
Lena had been walking the streets, making a mental map of Alexandria, for the past twenty minutes. The cool breeze of spring blows wisps of her hair out of its braid, strands of blonde flying from her face. She closes her eyes, enjoying the peacefulness of walking around without having to worry about walkers. Her feet take her a bit farther before she opens her eyes once more, rounding a corner.  
  
Lena begins to hear footsteps behind her. She hopes beyond hope that it’s just someone who wanted to take a leisurely walk just like her, but the universe is hardly ever that fair.  
  
“Morning, Lena.” Lena can hear the smirk in the voice behind her, but she doesn’t stop walking. If anything, she picks up the pace.  
  
“Ron, so good to see you.” Sarcasm drips from her lips as she turns her head to give the statement. Ron just chuckles and speeds up.  
  
“If you would just give me a chance-,”  
  
Lena turns on her heel, coming face-to-face with the boy from last night. “If it isn’t obvious, I’m not interested, dipwad.” She tries to turn and continue walking, but she feels a hand on her arm pulling her back. “Don’t touch me,” she mutters, a clear warning in her tone of voice.  
  
“You know,” Ron drawls, not removing his hand “that thing you pulled last night wasn’t very amusing.” He sneers at the word amusing.  
  
Lena feigns shock for a moment. “Really? I thought otherwise.” Anger flashes in Ron’s eyes as he moves her hand to the back of her neck, the other occupying her waist.  
  
Lena squints, livid at the boy. She balls her fist and swings, hand colliding with Ron’s jaw. He stumbles back, probably more out of shock than pain, and Lena shakes her hand, wiggling the pain out of her fingers. “I said don’t touch me,” Lena says lowly as Ron stalks back to her.  
  
“You little-,” he raises his hand as if he’s going to hit her, so Lena swiftly brings her knee up in-between his legs with a yell. The color drains from his face in an almost amusing way as he presses his lips together in pain, lowering to the ground.  
  
Lena smirks, going to the concrete where Ron sits, holding his arms with shallow breaths. She gently unfolds his arms, pinning them to each side of him and leans in with a threatening whisper.  
  
“Touch me again. I dare you.” She pulls away with a smile as if the little scene never even happened. She watches with amusement as fear fills his eyes. “Have a nice day,” Lena says in the cheeriest voice one could muster, before standing and walking away., crossing her arms behind her back and showing a not-so-pleasant gesture.  
  
Little did she know that Ron had picked a right in front of the Grimes house. Carl walks slowly from the porch, taking his sweet time to get to Ron, who still seems confused about what had just happened. Carl simply shoves his hands into his pockets with a smile.  
  
“What did I tell you?”  
  
He turns on his heel, speeding up to catch Lena. Her figure gets closer as he approaches, falling into step with the blonde. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve seen within these walls.” He pauses and laughs as she jumps at his voice, sucking in a shallow breath before letting it out. “For context, I’ve seen Carol’s special lasagna.”  
  
Lena chuckles, turning her eyes from Carl to the street and houses in front of her. If the map in her head is correct, all she has to go to get back to Maggie and Glenn’s house is take a few lefts.  
  
“Good morning to you too, Carl. He had it coming.” Her tone of voice sounds like she would be defending her actions and Carl breaks in.  
  
“No, I totally agree. I would have done it already, but I’m glad you got to.” The two walk some more in peaceful silence, their shoulders brushing up against each other occasionally. As they near the front gates, Carl spots his father, Maggie, and the man she found out was Daryl speaking. Carl nudges Lena, directing her to the group.  
  
They approach and Rick notices, pausing the conversation when the two are facing him.  
  
“Hey, Dad,” Carl says, a warm look in his eyes.  
  
“Hey, Carl. Lena.” The post-cop acknowledges both teens and turns his focus to Lena. “Do you think you’ll stay?” If Lena were stupid she would say that she heard some hope in his voice.  
  
“Yeah. I think I will.” Lena smiles at the man, who sighs with relief. Maggie walks the short distance over.  
  
“Speaking of, I checked on some stuff you might be able to do. Carol said she could use some help in the pantry if you’re up for it?” Maggie rubs her thumb idly over the knife in her belt loop.  
  
“Absolutely. Thanks.”  
  
Lena’s mind goes back to the feeling of last night.  
  
Serotonin. Dopamine. Acetylcholine.  
  
Things that she forgot existed, things that she still isn’t sure will last.  
  
She knows they’re fleeting chemical reactions, but she was going to fight for all she’s worth to keep them for as long as possible.


End file.
